


What Feels Right

by ColebaltBlue



Category: Star Trek: 2009
Genre: F/M, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2009-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-05 01:10:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColebaltBlue/pseuds/ColebaltBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally Published 6/3/09 and 6/4/09 on Livejournal.</p><p>Thank you to thecaptainslass and icedteainthebag as well as Kess and Jenny for their comments and help with this story. Feedback is, as always, appreciated.</p>
    </blockquote>





	What Feels Right

**Author's Note:**

> Originally Published 6/3/09 and 6/4/09 on Livejournal.
> 
> Thank you to thecaptainslass and icedteainthebag as well as Kess and Jenny for their comments and help with this story. Feedback is, as always, appreciated.

_"Spock, do yourself a favor: put aside logic, do what feels right." – Spock to Spock_

He considered what he said to himself once again as he watched the blue, green, and brown world float outside the shuttle window. The moon he orbited was much more lush than his home world, with a more temperate and wet climate, but it would do. It had a large desert in the southern hemisphere that was similar in topography to the deserts on Vulcan.

It wasn't home though; it was just a terra-formed moon orbiting a gas giant in an uninhabited system. It had been terra-formed and prepared for a group of colonists sixty years prior, but after five years, a virus had wiped out half the population and the remaining members left. It wasn't an uncommon phenomenon, and it did the Vulcans the advantage of a terra-formed world devoid of a native humanoid population. It was suitable, he decided.

"Incoming transmission," the computer intoned. He touched the screen.

"Spock."

"Hey Spock" Kirk's smirk came through across the parsecs.

"Captain Kirk."

"Did you find it?"

"It wasn't hiding, Captain."

"So you found it."

"Captain-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Listen, Starfleet came through with a short little mission for the Enterprise. It's an easy one, babysitting really, and I don't need you on it … or a linguistics officer, so why don't I send ours down to help you?"

"Help?"

"You know, resettle your people or something? We can pick both of you up on our way back through to Space Dock."

Spock was puzzled. "I don't require a linguistics officer, Captain. Furthermore, this mission is of a personal nature and does not require any additional crew from the Enterprise."

"Great, then she can be there in a personal capacity. I don't need her professionally or personally so she might as well be useful to you?"

"Sir-" Spock interrupted, perturbed by the way he was being ihandled/i

"Transporting now."

Spock turned and watched Lieutenant Uhura materialize behind him. Her face carried a sardonic smile, no doubt from overhearing their conversation.

"That man has no tact," she said.

"Indeed."

She moved forward and seated herself next to him, fingers flying over the controls, familiarizing herself with the readings.

"It looks beautiful."

"Beauty is irrelevant. It is functional. The climate on the far side is similar to that of Vulcan, and being terra formed. It has all the plant life necessary to support my people." He paused, looking down at the readings. "Furthermore, there are no large herbivores or carnivores to compete for food and space on the planet."

"Beauty is relevant, Spock."

He looked at her, sitting there, straight and tall in her seat. Her hair was straight and neat, her eyes kind. He blinked once in acknowledgement. His other self made a good choice, and he could sense that beauty was not as irrelevant to the choice as one might suppose. Uhura's fingers flew over the controls once again, taking control of the navigation and plotting a course down.

"Lieutenant…"

"I know, Sir."

Spock looked back at the view screen to see the moon's surface rapidly approaching. Buildings were materializing.

Uhura set the shuttle down on a landing pad near a large building that was serving as the functional seat of government and society for the Vulcans. They both sat for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Federation civilians and Starfleet personnel moved about in the hustle and bustle outside of the shuttle, each playing a part in the making of this moon into the new Vulcan home world.

"What will you call it?"

"That is not for me to decide."

\--//--

Spock stopped short after walking into the room reserved for him. There was only a single bed in a spacious, but functional room with a small seating area at the expansive bay window that overlooked a courtyard.

"Lieutenant-" he began awkwardly.

He stopped and then started again. "Nyota, I will see if there is another available room for you to stay in while we are planet side for the next week."

"I didn't ask the captain if I could join you so that I could sleep in another room."

Spock raised an eyebrow. Uhura's forward and direct manner was one of the things that had attracted him from the beginning; it would be illogical to think she would cease now. He turned and set his bag at the end of the bed. She set hers down next to his with a challenging look that carried just a hint of bravado. It was a distinctly human trait, allowing actions to make the strongest statements rather than words.

Although he had failed to elaborate on the reason for the advice he had given himself in the hangar bay weeks ago, he once again thought of the statement while he looked at Uhura next to him. A sexual relationship with her defied logic, but it felt right. He cocked his head to the side, feeling just a little urge to smile at her. He could see the relief at his acceptance of the situation in her eyes at the gesture. Bravado was not unique to humans, despite their more than proficient displays of it. Her own expression softened into the smile that did not appear on his own face.

They both paused awkwardly, not quite sure what their next step was now that the sleeping arrangements had been addressed. The moment was broken by the beep of a communicator.

"Spock, please join the council in the main conference room downstairs. Your friend may accompany you." He looked at Uhura standing next to him, surprised at the inclusion of her in the invitation.

When he had received the transmission from himself suggesting that he might want to spend a week on the new Vulcan home world, he was puzzled. Then a message from the council requesting his presence came the next day that only added to the mystery. It was logical that as one of the few Vulcans left, he would be requested to attend to the needs of his planet, but he couldn't think of the reason behind the current request for his presence.

"I do believe you are attempting to hide a smile Lieutenant. Does this request amuse you?"

"You are correct," she said with a small smile, teasing.

She held his gaze then, with a deep breath "Spock…"

"They are waiting for us," he interrupted. He turned to go. He stopped when he felt her fingers brush his back and he looked over his shoulder. "Later, Nyota."

She nodded and they strode out of the room together.

What was left of the Vulcan Elder Council had gathered in the large room downstairs that served as a conference room. He acknowledged the presence of his older self and that of his father's before turning to look at the rest of the council.

"Spock," his father said, rising to his feet and sparing a quick glance at Uhura who was standing just behind Spock. "It was thoughtful of you to take personal leave from Starfleet at our request."

"It was the correct thing to do."

"We ask you now to assist your people in selecting a location for the new Vulcan temple."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

Sarek continued. "That is why we have asked you to come." He paused, and then added for the benefit of Uhura. "The Vulcan Temple was founded and built at a time when our race embraced its emotions. We must ask you to complete this task for us."

He stopped, and then started again, showing the closet thing to emotion Spock had ever heard his father express. "You are uniquely suited for it because of your human mother. We must ask you to embrace your emotions and use your feelings to find a location for the new spiritual home for the Vulcan people."

"Father, I am puzzled at your request and I am unsure if I truly am the logical choice for this task. The Temple is a sacred place and as you stated, I am not Vulcan."

Spock stopped, uncomfortable with the conversation with Uhura in the room. "I do not believe that I am suited for this search. And, as you know, I have purged my emotions."

"Nevertheless, we have selected you for this task." Spock broke his gaze with his father and glanced at himself still seated at the stable. The elder version of himself was considering him with a closed expression.

When his gaze returned to his father, Sarek continued. "Spock, you have been selected to do something that no living Vulcan has the strength or unique ability to do. You may come to my quarters in three hours time to finalize preparations for your task."

Sarek returned to his seat, dismissing his son. With one final look at himself seated with the council, Spock turned and left the room, a silent Uhura behind him. At this moment he understood the human expression 'radiating tension.'

"We will discuss this later," he started as they strode down the hall toward their room together, cutting off any chance she might have had to ask him about what had just occurred. "Please return to our quarters and prepare our things for our departure. We will take the shuttle we arrived in."

He stopped at the door to their room and looked at her. "I must go meditate. I will return after I meet with my father."

Uhura nodded and turned to enter the room as Spock strode off, unsettled by the events unfolding around him. The Vulcan race was a private one and he was disturbed by the request made of him and the acceptance and even encouragement by the Council of Uhura's presence.

\--//--

She was seated on the center of the bed, cross-legged, suitcases open, but packed, in front of her. Her gaze was on the stars now visible out the window. She turned her head as the door opened and she watched as Spock entered. His step hitched and his jaw tightened when he saw her on the bed.

"Spock?" she queried in response to his troubled, emotional expression.

"Nyota," he responded, taking a step forward. She rose to meet him, hands going to his jaw as a gesture of comfort. His response was quick, fierce as he stepped forward into her, lips roughly finding hers, kissing her hard. She gasped as his hands gripped her waist.

"Spock?" she questioned again as she stepped back. He swallowed heavily and looked down, hands leaving her waist and balling at his sides.

"Vulcans are not emotionless as you humans often believe us to be. We simply choose to cast off the burden of our emotions and embrace logic as a solace. Vulcans often feel much more deeply and strongly than humans do." They both knew that she knew this already, but she understood his need to say it aloud. She guided him to the bed with a hand on his shoulder, moving their bags to the floor as he sat and stared at his boots.

"As a half human, my emotions are both tempered and more accessible than a Vulcan's would be."

Uhura moved around him, lowering the lights, turning the sheets back, letting down her hair, and preparing for bed. Spock remained in the position she had left him in. She knelt at his feet and reached for his boots.

"Nyota." He placed a hand on her shoulder and caught her gaze and held it. "A Vulcan only experiences and embraces emotions once every seven years. It is a very private experience, and we do not discuss it, even amongst ourselves.

"It is a very," he paused, searching for a word, "private experience. The Vulcan High Council wishes me to embrace an emotional state similar to that state. To embrace the emotional side of both my human and Vulcan heritages." He stopped for a moment moving a hand to her jaw, thumb stroking softly.

"They believe that by doing this, I will be able select a suitable location for the spiritual and cultural heart of Vulcans." He waited for an acknowledgement that she was following his statements, his explanations.

"Do you understand what I am saying, what I am asking?" He needed to make sure, to verbalize it, to ensure that she understood the role he was asking her to play.

Uhura nodded, placing her hand over his and gripping it. She raised it to her lips.

"Tell me what you need."

"You."

She rose to her feet and stepped between his legs. His hands found her legs, hips, waist, sliding under her skirt. He pulled her forward, pressing his face into her chest and breathing her in. He opened his mind, as he had done hours before in meditation and let the emotion wash over him. Lust, desire, want, fear, apprehension. He wanted her desperately.

"Anything you want, Spock," she breathed, running her fingers through his hair. "Anything you need."

"You."

His hands on her waist pulled her roughly down onto his lap, lips finding hers, their tongues meeting. He pulled back slightly and found her eyes, asking her as best he could.

"Nyota, I'm frightened."

"Shhh…just feel."

He did and she could feel the brush of his mind and her mind, together.

\--//--

Spock awoke to the unfamiliar weight of another person lying on his chest. Uhura's scent was comforting and he could see the dawn breaking out the window. Their mental connection from last night had been broken, but he still ached from their physical one. It was time for them to leave to begin his search.

He stroked his fingers down her bare back, counting her vertebrae. She shifted and exhaled.

"Nyota."

"Hmmm?" she responded, settling even further into him.

"This will be difficult for me and perhaps even harder for you," Spock said as he fanned his palm out over her lower back.

"If last night was any indication, the benefits will outweigh the risks." She raised her head and blinked sleepily at him.

"It is curious, the human inclination to respond to strong emotional moments with humor."

"You should try it sometime."

Spock allowed a hint of a smile to pass over his features. He threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling his face to his and kissing her.

"We must leave. You will accompany me?"

"Of course," she answered, returning his kiss.

They boarded his shuttle, settling into the seats. He plotted a course for the far side of the planet, toward the desert. He would begin his search in the one location on the small moon that reminded him most of Vulcan. It was sentimental to allow such things to factor into his search, but it was also practical. And this was now a time to embrace such things as sentiment. That is why he was chosen for his task he reminded himself.

He glanced to his right. Uhura sat straight in the seat next to him, not a hair out of place. The implications of their actions last night were not lost on him. She stiffened slightly, as if she could feel his heavy gaze on her. He looked back down at the shuttle controls, tracking their progress across the moon's landscape.

He knew she cared for him. He had felt it last night, his mind open to her thoughts and feelings in the throws of passion. He had felt her own lust and desperation combine with his. And something else, deeper, stronger. The feeling had overwhelmed him, combining with his as he gasped for breath while she had rocked above him. He then understood why humans called it "falling."

They spent a majority of the day surveying the desert's topography, mapping and seeking out suitable spots for the Vulcan Temple. Uhura flew while he scanned and recorded. They took a break near one possible location, eating a meal while seated on a large rock outcropping halfway down the side of a canyon, the cliff walls at their backs. They discussed the merits of the location, Uhura remarking on its beauty while he discussed its functionality.

They continued on until close to dusk before he found a location to set down for the night, suggesting they sleep under the stars. Uhura looked surprised at the suggestion, but agreed and found them a spot high on a mesa.

"Spock, are you sure that you don't want to do this alone?" she asked as they drank tea while seated, staring up at the moon's planet hanging in the sky.

"It would be the logical thing for you to leave and allow me to complete this quest on my own. But this quest is not about logic. It is about emotion and for that, I need you.

"When a Vulcan makes the decision to purge all emotion he travels into the desert alone. It would be what you might call a spiritual journey. Only when he has done so does he emerge from the desert and reenter society. We honor those individuals who make that journey; it is not an easy one." Spock shifted slightly, carefully placing a hand on her waist and his chin on her shoulder. He felt vulnerable and was comforted by physical contact with her.

"Periodically, he may return to the desert if he finds himself in great personal turmoil. There are those, of course, who never return from the journey - either succumbing to the elements or else choosing to remain as hermits.

"Despite our lives in which we eschew emotion, we are a deeply emotional and spiritual people. I am overwhelmed by the burden I am being asked by my people to bear." He pressed a kiss into her neck and tightened his grip on her waist. "Your presence makes it bearable."

Her fingers found his and twined with them forcefully. Her gaze never left the sky and he studied her profile. She was beautiful in the glow cast by the planet and he felt his chest tighten in response.

Spock shifted, pulling her toward him and she turned, leaning in, and kissed him as fiercely as he had kissed her the night before.

Fingers released clasps on clothing, hands pulled the blankets they sat on over their bodies and found bare skin. Lips followed the trailing paths of fingers and hands as their bodies came together under the sky.

They lay, catching their breath afterward.

"Most cultures combine sex, spirituality, and emotional journeys," she began. "The language used to describe each may be different, but the meaning is the same."

She curled up against him, head settling in on his chest comfortably. She was warm and brought him solace in the unfamiliar night on the unfamiliar world.

"Both humans and Vulcans encourage a solitary spiritual journey in a harsh environment as part of personal and spiritual growth processes. The terms in both languages for this journey come from similar linguistic roots within their respective languages.

"In addition, both cultures closely tie rituals of rebirth and renewal with sex and use linguistically similar words to describe both spiritual and physical communion."

Spock was puzzled by her mini-lecture on linguistics. She fell silent, but her body had not fully relaxed. He allowed the silence to continue, understanding that she was trying to say something much more significant. He trusted that when she did so, he would understand.

She raised herself to her elbows, looking down at him, her skin bathed in the fire-like glow cast over the night by the planet hanging in the sky. "You don't have to be one or the other. It's not a choice. In fact, they really aren't that different to begin with."

"Your logic is sound," he responded softly.

She smiled at him and he traced her lips with his finger.

"That was a very Vulcan thing to say."

He moved his hand down her back and pulled her fully on top of him.

"Then how about I show you non-Vulcan response?" he replied, rolling her beneath him.

"Why don't you whisper some Vulcan sweet-nothings in my ear?" she murmured with a ghost of a smirk that he kissed away.

"That would be impossible, since such emotional sentiments don't exist in the Vulcan language," he said with his lips against hers before sliding them down her neck.

"Try anyway," she gasped as he bit her collarbone.

He began naming the constellations in the Vulcan sky in the language of his father as the human woman underneath him answered in the soft sighs of a language that both the human and Vulcan in him understood.

\--//--

[Part 2]

They continued scouting during the second day, returning to a few locations from the previous day that afternoon. On the night of the second day, they camped on a sandy riverbank at the bottom of a canyon.

They had whispered together under the cliffs and the sky above them in English, the language of his mother, and in the formal dialect of Vulcan his father had spoken in the home. Her tongue had the barest hint of trouble forming some of the more complicated sounds in Vulcan. But its other talents, and his teasing about both, led to a lesson in pronunciation for her and speechlessness for him.

They found the location at the end of the third day. She was a little surprised when he insisted that she set the shuttle down before they had completed their initial instrument pass instead of making a detailed scan first. They stepped out of the shuttle and stared at the tall narrow opening in the cliff wall in front of them.

They were at the end of a short and shallow but wide box canyon that was part of the network of canyons that crisscrossed the moon's desert side. The canyon was accessible on foot by a camouflaged, but easily navigable path down the cliff wall, or through the canyon itself. Its location was, in a word, perfect.

"Do you feel different about this site?" she asked softly from beside him.

He raised an eyebrow in response, but then stopped to consider her question. "Yes, this one feels right."

She seemed as surprised by his answer as he was, but accepted it with a single nod of her head. Turning, she went back into the shuttle and returned with their gear while he remained at the spot, staring at the opening. This location was correct. The location was no more or less asthetically pleasing or functional than other locations they had scouted. He wasn't sure he could describe why it was perfect other than it just felt perfect. He cocked his head, considering. That, he supposed, was why he was sent to find it.

They spent the remainder of the day carefully cataloging and surveying the site. Although the Vulcan Council would accept his recommendation, he knew that returning with data would be important to them.

That night, their coupling was bittersweet and carried just a hint of desperation. He did not repeat the connection of their minds from their first night on the planet. Instead, he let go internally and just felt. Their return, first to the Council, then to the ship, would mean a change for both of them. They lay there, staring at nothing and lost in their own thoughts.

"Nyota?" he asked eventually.

"Yes, Spock?"

"This feeling of falling, does it ever stop?"

She was silent for a long while before she finally spoke. "It changes. Sometimes it fades, sometimes it grows, but it always changes."

"It is not just a human emotion," he said in response.

She remained quiet, still. He could tell she was waiting for him to explain further.

"Vulcans love," he continued, softly, succinctly.

"I know, Spock," she replied, swallowing heavily.

He was silent, and then in a whisper, "I don't know what I'm feeling."

She shifted so that she could see his face. Her hands found his jaw and stroked the back of his head and neck. Her eyes blinked and she opened her mouth a few times before she simply nodded and kissed him softly.

\--//--

They returned to the temporary settlement the next morning. Sarek and the others of the Vulcan Council had viewed his scans of the site with little comment other than an expression of gratitude for his efforts. Excavation and construction were to begin shortly.

He left Uhura to unload their belongings from the shuttle as he made his way to the private garden surrounded by a high wall. It was being carefully attended by a horticulturalist that was aboard a Starfleet science vessel at the time of Vulcan's destruction. Spock found the garden soothing. And in an annoyingly sentimental way, it reminded him of his mother's garden.

He walked the carefully constructed paths amongst the native and non-native Vulcan plants. They were laid out in such a manner to be conducive for meditation. Uhura had informed him once that humans used similar meditation gardens and had taken him to the Zen Buddhist retreat center just north of San Francisco. After he had informed his mother of this trip, she had sent him a small bonsai garden to cultivate in his quarters at the Academy.

He stopped and stared at the geometric patterns laid out in the rock before him. He had come to clear his mind, to let go of the emotion he had embraced on his recent trip. It was troubling, though, that he could not. His thoughts, for lack of a better term, were racing.

Spock clasped his hands behind his back and settled into a comfortable stance, focusing on the rocks before him, letting the patterns wash over his mind, seeking solace in their logic. He could feel the emotion welling up from deep within. It was a heady mixture of wrath at those who had killed his mother, lust after Lieutenant Uhura, and anger at himself for simply having those feelings. Reaching deep within his mind, he began the slow processes of seeking the logic of his mother's death.

He thought of Nero and his emotional response to the death of his wife, which brought about the near-extinction of an entire race of people. He thought of his father and the stoic way he had simply accepted that Amanda was no longer with them. He thought of everyone on the Enterprise's reaction and – stopped. Becoming wrapped up in the pitiful gazes brought a sudden upwelling of ifeeling/i. How dare they. How dare they ipity/i him and his loss.

Spock's head snapped up. From the new position of the shadows, he could tell he had been there for hours and was even more unsettled than he was when he entered the garden. With a sense of disgust he turned and strode out of the garden, intent on returning to his quarters.

He strode through the doorway and stopped short. Uhura stood at the bay windows, looking out on the planet in the evening light. Her arms were wrapped around her, gripping her sides, in a stance he had learned meant that humans were uncomfortable and troubled. It was a protective stance, borne from a biological need to protect one's vital organs in times of distress. It was primitive. He felt a flash of annoyance at her as she turned and looked at him.

"Spock?"

"Lieutenant," he stated, moving toward the bag of his items sitting on the end of the bed.

"Spock? What's wrong?" she asked, turning to him.

He looked sharply at her. "Nothing is wrong Lieutenant."

She stepped toward him, and faltered, stopping amd searching his face. She was unsure of what to do, and he looked with severity upon her.

'Why can't she fix this?' The thought came unbidden and he immediately pressed his lips together and cursed himself for thinking such an illogical thought. There was nothing anyone could do to 'fix' what had happened. It was not broken to begin with.

"Your father sent us dinner," she said, half turning back toward the table by the bay window. He could see a simple meal laid out made up of fruits, grains, and vegetables. Uhura had prepared tea to accompany the meal.

"I apologize, Lieutenant. My meditation was not as successful as I anticipated. I am … unwell."

She nodded, and then gestured at the table. "Eat then. Maybe you'll feel better."

Spock opened his mouth to comment on the lack of logic in her statement, but stopped when he saw the vulnerable yet guarded expression on her face. He was not behaving correctly and she had picked up on it.

They ate, mostly in silence. Her few attempts to get him to speak were met with short answers. After the meal she suggested sleep.

"I do not wish to sleep now. I will return to meditate. You should sleep. Do not wait for my return."

The expression on her face was a mixture of hurt and puzzlement, but she nodded and let him leave.

He returned to the garden and walked through it toward the open room on the other side. The room was more like a porch; the floor was made of smooth and even stone, warmed to a temperature similar to Vulcan. The walls were simple and made of paper and slid open to provide fluidity between the room and the garden, so that the room was neither indoors nor out, but simply one with the garden. The smell of incense drifted by and the garden and rooms were lit by the soft yellow glow of fire in the form of torches, candles, and lamps scattered about.

Cushions were stacked against the far wall and he selected one, carried it to the center of the room and set it down. Settling himself down in a position conducive to meditation, he opened his eyes and mind to the garden before him. He sought solace and logic in his meditation. He sought to purge himself of the emotion he had embraced in the last few days and to find his center deep within, to rebalance his life.

Hours later he drew himself out of his deep meditation, temporarily soothed by the logical reordering of his thoughts. His feelings and emotions had been pushed down under a blanket of logic and he felt calmed, even comforted. He rose, replacing the cushion and headed back toward his quarters.

In deference to Uhura he entered the room quietly. She was curled up on one side of the bed, asleep, although he could tell the sleep was restless. There was a crease between her brows, something he knew was an indication of distress in humans.

Spock quietly and efficiently undressed before sliding between the sheets. Uhura shifted and he stiffened, concerned that he had awoken her. She made a small noise and did not move again and he breathed out slowly, relieved that she had not stirred. He wished to be alone with his thoughts.

He lay there on his back, unable to sleep as the woman next to him breathed softly in the quiet room. His thoughts were quiet, logical, but they offered no comfort.

\--//--

He awoke the next morning, surprised that he had slept at all. The space on the bed next to him was empty and he glanced over at the far side of the room. Uhura was seated at the table, a plate of fruit and cheese in front of her. She was dressed, hair done, and engrossed in the PADD on the table before her. He watched her as she carefully paired the fruit with a piece of cheese and put it in her mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing.

He was troubled by the way that he watched her and the emotional response that accompanied it unsettled him. He wanted her. He wanted her to be close to him, skin against his, mind meeting his. But, at the same time, he was unsure he wanted anyone near. It was illogical. He sat up and she turned toward him.

"You're awake," she said, voice unreadable.

"Yes."

"Come eat some breakfast. I'm reading communiqués from the Enterprise and Starfleet."

"I am not hungry."

She cocked her head to the side, carefully watching him. "Spock," she said softly, "come eat, please."

He rose, moving toward the table. He noticed a second PADD sitting next to a plate laid out for him. She watched him the entire time. When he was seated, she reached out and brushed her fingers along his and he stiffened at the contact. She noticed.

"Spock," she said, almost sadly.

He swallowed and looked down at the plate before him, moving his hand into his lap.

"Thank you for preparing breakfast."

"I didn't, your father dropped the food off, along with a message for you," she said, indicating the PADD.

He nodded and picked it up.

"Spock," she said, placing a hand on his wrist. "Spock, look at me."

He looked up, into her eyes, which were wide and deep with emotion. He stared, chest aching.

"Nyota," he breathed.

"Spock, I know this is difficult, but please do not shut me out completely."

"Nyota, before we leave I intend to spend more time meditating, I am disturbed that I am not in control over my emotions. I seek to remedy that before we rendezvous with the Enterprise tomorrow. Your understanding is appreciated." He looked at her, hardening his expression, before looking back down at the PADD in front of him. He did not miss the hurt in her eyes.

She went back to her food and PADD, but he noticed that although she pushed her food around, she didn't eat any more of it.

He left shortly afterward, only telling her that he would return, but not to wait for him.

He returned to the garden and paced, seeking solace and logic once again. When the sun was high overhead he returned to the room and settled himself down for a long and deep meditation, determined to calm his racing thoughts and emotional responses to the recent events in his life.

"Spock, you cannot meditate away your emotions." His eyes snapped open and settled on the man standing before him. He waited for him to continue.

"Spock, you…." The man paused, and then continued, "We, are half human and often forget that. We cannot meditate away our emotions, not even a full Vulcan can. Attempting to do so is, illogical."

Spock paused, unsure of how to respond.

The man continued, "I understand the turmoil that not only the loss of our mother and planet, but also this recent journey you completed here has caused. I also suspect that you have embarked on a physical relationship with Lieutenant Uhura which is further troubling you."

"You did not have one with her?"

"No, Spock. She was one of my star students at the Academy, but I did not allow our relationship to be anything different. Later, while she served aboard the Enterprise with me, I enjoyed her company immensely and we became dear friends, but never lovers."

Spock raised an eyebrow at the use of the English word in the description of his relationship with Uhura.

"Lovers?"

"Spock, I know myself, I know you," the man continued with just a hint of bemusement. "Humans often seek solace when dealing with great emotional turmoil, but what they really need is each other during such times. I encourage you to accept the support that Nyota offers through her feelings for you."

"I am not prepared to do so. I am perfectly capable of purging my emotions through logic."

"That is a highly illogical statement."

Spock furrowed his eyebrows, unsure if he was being mocked.

The man continued. "You iare/i half human, Spock. The times I was most content, happy, in my life were those times in which I embraced both the Vulcan and the human side of myself. Equally. Do yourself a favor now, Spock, and let yourself feel. It doesn't make you any less Vulcan."

Spock watched as he turned around and strode off. He considered the logic of his statements to himself. This person had come from a different time and reality than he had. The events that were unfolding for him were not the events that this man had experienced, yet he knew himself, he supposed. And so therefore, he must simply accept some of the advice he had for himself, as illogical as it seemed.

He cleared his mind for meditation.

Night had fallen when he returned to his quarters. Uhura was seated in the bed, back up against the headboard, reading a PADD. She glanced up at him when he entered.

"There is food on the table for you," she said, by way of greeting. He could tell she was upset, but was unsure as to how to address it. He sat at the table instead.

She had left a PADD next to his plate with summaries of the news from the Enterprise and Starfleet. There was also a note from his father, thanking him once again for the recent task he had completed for the council and wishing him well on his journey on the Enterprise. He read the news and the note as he ate the meal.

When he finished he rose and moved toward the bed, approaching the side she was seated on. She watched him, shifting to make room for him as he sat down on the side.

He reached out slowly and placed a hand on her leg.

"Nyota," he began. She was silent, just watching him. "Nyota, I am having … difficulty with my emotional response to recent events. Including my, relationship, with you. I apologize for my behavior since we returned from our trip in the desert."

He could feel a gentle loosening of her muscles under his hand. He stroked it softly up and down her leg, eyes on its progress, watching it brush over her skin.

She reached down and cupped his jaw, bringing his head up. He looked into her eyes, surprised by the compassion he found there. She smiled at him. He allowed the corners of his mouth to rise in the barest hint of a smile in return.

Uhura nodded and with gentle pressure to his jaw implored him to move toward her. He did, crawling up her body until his lips found hers.

Their kiss was soft, but intense, gentle and deep. He closed his eyes as he kissed her, allowing himself to just feel her. He felt as she shifted under him, using her body's language to invite him in. He accepted the invitation.

\--//--

Although they both knew that their trip had raised more questions than it had answered, Spock felt better the morning that they prepared to leave for the Enterprise than he had the morning before. He had awoken Uhura in the middle of the night to connect with her physically again.

They had awoken again just before dawn and had whispered together in Vulcan, discussing the differences of formal Vulcan versus intimate and casual Vulcan. He had commented on the lack of such differences in English. She had laughed at him and had spent an hour instructing him in the finer points of Methali, or Swahili wordplay, to prove that not all of her native languages were so, iboring/i. It was an old game, and an old debate, but they both took comfort in the familiarity of it all.

By midmorning, they were on the shuttle, set to rendezvous with the Enterprise.

"Incoming transmission."

"Spock."

"Hey Spock, did you have a nice visit?"

"My visit was not intended to be 'nice,' Captain."

"So it sounds like you did. How is the lieutenant?" Spock was certain that question carried an intentional double meaning and refrained from responding. Uhura had once laughed when he had expressed his frustration at Kirk's juvenility. She had informed him that he saw it as a sense of bonding and friendship building and his other self seemed to think it was important that he cultivate it. No matter how bothersome it was.

"Her companionship was appreciated," he finally stated and saw Uhura hide a smile in the seat next to him.

"Excellent. Great. Well, get back here. We have orders and I need my First Officer."


End file.
